


Tongue-Tied (the Wrapped Around Your Finger Remix)

by flammablehat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin ties Arthur up.  Arthur tries his best to ignore the implications of allowing himself to be tied up by his servant and fails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tongue-Tied (the Wrapped Around Your Finger Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_ragnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Summerpornathon 2011 Leftovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/321201) by [lady_ragnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell). 



> Nell! I hope you enjoy your remix as much as I enjoyed the process of choosing my inspiration story and writing it! My short list of fics I wanted to play with was anything but short, so I will simply say I am grateful for your open transformative works policy because I'd love to come back to all of them. ^_^ Love you bb. 
> 
> So many thanks to Sophinisba for taking control of our fabulous gluttonous remix and making the dream a reality! You are the best!

“Going to admit you like it yet?” Merlin is using that annoying voice he employs when he thinks he’s got Arthur cornered, all level and patient like he’s speaking to a child. 

“Shut up,” Arthur says, regally. He squirms around the smooth pressure in his arse, bunching handfuls of sweat-damp linens in his fists. It’s easier to lie prone, is the thing. It’s easier to stretch and let Merlin attend him and ignore the slack in Merlin’s silly ropes. He doesn’t want to chafe himself, after all, no matter the silk Merlin’s stitched into all the bits that touch his skin. 

“Won’t fuck you until you admit it,” Merlin singsongs. 

Well, if he’s expecting an easy surrender, he’s got another thing coming. No matter how suggestive his touch, or how sex-deep his voice, Arthur has withstood far worse than Merlin is capable of dishing out. This standoff hardly even warrants the name. 

Arthur grinds his teeth around the bit of pillow under his face. 

“—put you in the stocks—” he says through his mouthful of bedding, and has to admit to himself he could sound more threatening. 

“Not helping your cause. Sire.” 

So that’s the way it’s to be tonight, is it? On the one hand it’s amusing, as Merlin being hard-nosed always is. On the other hand, Arthur is rutting into his sheets just to give himself some stimulation. The plug bumps and prods his insides without the guidance of Merlin’s fingers, and it feels like poking at an itch — so close to satisfying it borders on maddening. 

The more he writhes, the more his body simmers with fatigue — the same hot, gummy muscle strain unique to practicing sword forms and balance drills. Sweat tickles down his temples, gathering on his upper lip. Merlin’s fingers are pleasantly cool trailing over his ankles. 

After another minute or so of aimless rubbing, Arthur slumps.

If concession matters so much to Merlin, it seems a peevish sort of thing for Arthur to withhold only for his pride. They’ll both be happier, after all, once they’ve moved past the stubborn dramatics. Arthur can grant Merlin this small gesture, even if they are going to have to have a talk about coercion at some point. 

“Please,” he says.

“Not yet. You’ve still got to say you like it when I tie you up.” 

“ _You_ like it! Because you’re a—a fiend, and a deviant, and I am a generous mast—”

Merlin’s palm connects smartly with his arse and Arthur chokes on his outrage. The cords at his ankles and wrists go tight as his body chases the sensation, a sharp ripple that’s more intense than it is painful and leaves him gasping. 

“If you didn’t like it so much I wouldn’t do it,” Merlin says in that damnable tone again. “I like it when you can touch me, and wrap your legs around me when I fuck you. But you like it so much when I tie you down like this, and I just want you to _tell me_.” 

It’s a bad moment for Merlin to distract Arthur with phantom memories of being fucked close and hard into blissful oblivion, because it robs him of the opportunity to properly savour Merlin pleading. 

“I don’t like having this _thing_ inside me instead of you,” Arthur says, because it’s the only true thing he can force past his clenched teeth. 

“That’s why you’re going to tell me. So I get in there instead,” Merlin says. 

It is shameful how much his confidence affects Arthur. It is horrifying how easy it would be to open his mouth and say everything Merlin wants to hear and more, how Merlin makes him _want_ to admit to every weakness and perversion stewing in his gut. What gets under his skin isn’t so much the idea of Merlin _knowing_ what excites him, because Merlin is nothing if not trustworthy. Some cautious part of Arthur knows that once such a thing is said aloud, it can’t be taken back. What he fears is that he won’t want to. 

He feels Merlin’s breath across the small of his back before he realises what Merlin’s doing. The hum of his mouth on the plug doesn’t travel much farther than the sensitive ring of skin clutching at the stem, but the flutter of sensation is almost more intense for its delicacy. 

“Come on, I just want to make you feel good. If you don’t say you like it, maybe I won’t do it anymore.” 

Each word shivers up Arthur’s spine, making the muscles from his thighs to his shoulders clench and release. 

“Tease,” he manages.

“You just have to say, one way or the other.” The bed shifts as Merlin sits back on his heels, and when Arthur glances around his mouth goes dry. Merlin must have some idea of the picture he paints with his hand working his cock, judging by the canny look in his eyes. But there’s an imploring tilt to his head that invites Arthur to relent and take what’s on offer. “Say you don’t like it, and I’ll never do it again, or say you do, and you’ll get just what you want.” 

“Damn you,” Arthur says, helplessly. It shouldn’t be such an impossible thing to say — _Merlin, quit faffing about and get on with it_. Only he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s spread out and hard and swiftly approaching desperate, entirely at his _servant’s_ mercy. Merlin could do anything he wanted with Arthur bound like this. It shouldn’t make the blood rush hotter in Arthur’s groin or his vision swim the way it does. 

And yet, when he opens his mouth, “I like it, I like it, _Merlin_ ,” comes tumbling out. 

He can feel the flush sweep up the length of his body, mortification chased by a wave of relief as Merlin scrambles to push him to his hands and knees. His bindings pull taut, a reminder that he is vulnerable and exposed and he _asked for it_. 

“You’ll get it,” Merlin promises, pulling at the plug until it begins to slide free. 

The sudden give of his body makes Arthur bite off an overcome noise. Merlin pauses, knuckles bunched and slippery between Arthur’s cheeks. He teases the blunt tip inside again with a few shallow motions, making Arthur arch, body grasping for depth and pressure the little bulb of wood can’t hope to provide. 

“Better when it’s moving?” Merlin asks. There’s a hazy, rapt quality to his voice that stirs the beginnings of panic in Arthur’s chest. 

“Merlin, damn it, _please_!” 

Merlin doesn’t listen at first, fucking him on the scant girth of the plug. It makes Arthur’s hips roll and his cock drip and pushes him to the border of frustrated tears so fast he’s stopped caring about the noises he’s making so long as they’re short of actual sobs. 

And it’s everything he never knew he wanted. 

So when Merlin finally rocks into him, thick and hot and perfect, Arthur can’t swear “I like it, Merlin, I _like_ it,” fervently enough.


End file.
